


Heart of Courage

by Nonnie_The_Individualist



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Not Maria DeLuca Friendly, but with lots of sweet malex, maria deluca is canonically a bad friend, salty salty spite fic, seriously they are so soft here, warning for the 2x06 airstream scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:00:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28002801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nonnie_The_Individualist/pseuds/Nonnie_The_Individualist
Summary: A canon-divergent look at the airstream scene in episode 2x06 because looking at that Malex kiss during that scene there is zero way those two didn't just immediately forget Maria was even in the room. This fic deals with what, for many fans, was seen as a manipulation by Maria of two injured and traumatized characters, specifically her taking advantage of Alex, and as such is absolutely NOT Maria Deluca friendly. If that's not your thing, this won't be the fic for you so be warned now. This fic starts out the same as That Scene but also includes Alex and Michael's panic and confusion over what is happening so I have separated that as the first chapter/prologue so anyone can avoid that part if needed without losing too much of the story. There is a scene in chapter 2 where Michael and Alex argue with Maria about what happened so fair warning for that as well. The rest is a lot of soft, sweet, gentle Malex taking care of and actually talking to each other.
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 109
Kudos: 181





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I set this as "Chose not to use Archive warnings" because for anyone familiar with episode 2x06 of RNM the consent in the scene and consequently in the opening of this fic is...dubious at best, but it doesn't really fit the rape/non-con warning either. This first chapter sticks pretty close to the scene in the show and I wanted to post it separately so people can avoid it if they want. This is touted as my 2x06 spite fic but at it's heart it is a Malex fic and involves a lot of very soft, sweet Malex moments to balance out the salty, spicy beginning.

Alex feels the fine tremor in Michael’s hands as he rubs another alcohol swab from his first aid kit over the wound on Alex’s chest. The fear radiating off Michael is _almost_ enough to drown out the want pulsing under Alex’s skin at the feeling of Michael’s hands on his body. Almost. 

Michael’s teeth have sunk deep into his lower lip as he works and it takes everything in Alex not to reach out and cup his chin, brushing his thumb over Michael’s lip to free it. Only his respect for the boundaries Michael has asked for are keeping him still. That, and Maria’s hands on his left arm and leg, tightening in irritation each second that Michael works while looking up at Alex through his eyelashes. Alex is trying not to let the desire show on his face, but _this_ , the feeling of Michael’s gentle hands brushing his skin, the smell of antiseptic mingling with the smell of rain, the stillness with only the sound of quiet breathing, it’s all so familiar it triggers an almost Pavlovian response in anticipation of what is supposed to come after. What has _always_ come after, in all their years of doing this for each other.

Alex sees Michael finish making the bandage and he tries to reign himself in. He knows that things are different now, that Michael and Maria are trying to have something, but the _want_ is still there for him, just without anywhere to go now.

If he’d had his vehicle he would have gone home and dressed his own wound to avoid all this but, Michael had asked. He’d even said “please,” looking so worried and sincere, and Alex had relented. It’s been so long since they’ve been able to do this for each other, and if he’s hoping for one last time, one final moment to remember their connection by, then that is his business. He’ll deal with the fallout.

***

Michael is going mad. It’s impossible to throw out a decade of muscle memory, and now that he has Alex under his hands again, he is fighting the impulse to pull him in and seal their mouths together. It’s what they have always done throughout the years. In high school every time they saw each other one (usually both) of them would have some new scrape, or burn, or bruise, so at some point, before, during, or after the kissing, they would drag out the first aid kit Michael found at Sanders’ shop and they would tend to each other’s hurts. It was nice after years of patching themselves up alone to have someone to do it for them, to put hands on them tenderly, not with violence or surface-deep lust that burned out as quickly as the afterglow faded. But then Alex had left. And there were so many wounds for both of them that the other never got a chance to see, and kisses that landed over scars long healed instead of over fresh bandages.

Michael _knows_ he is staring too much. He knows his hands are lingering too long, too softly, too _possessively_ on Alex’s skin, but he can’t stop, not when Alex is looking back at him like that. His eyes are half-lidded, lips parted slightly, and Michael can feel the pulse racing under his hands as he works. How can he help but get caught up in the memories of before? Getting high off the gentle touches they were both denied for so long, wounds created by fear and hate being mended with tenderness, skin coming alive under each other’s hands. Holding themselves back, breathing getting deeper and deeper as one of them worked on the other, waiting until the last possible second to wring every last ounce of anticipation out of the moment before they broke and were on each other, both hard and pleasantly aching. That’s how it is now as Alex watches him with all the intensity of a black hole and Michael feels himself pulled inexorably into orbit, waiting for the weight of gravity to draw him in close enough to be spun out and consumed.

Now, it seems that all his years of having to worry about Alex from afar have caught up with him. Before, every time an injury came up during one of their infrequent calls or letters, Michael’s mind would spin out for weeks with the possibilities. There were the chances for infection, the knowledge that Alex could be at less than full strength and end up dead because of it or worse, that he was already dead, and Michael wouldn’t know. The waiting when the news cycle reported some new tragedy and weeks or months went by before the word that Alex was safe made it to him was unbearable at first. But the years had drug on, their communication became less frequent, and Michael thought he’d buried that compulsive need to protect Alex somewhere beneath the booze, and the casual sex, and the silence from overseas. Now, however, it’s back in full force and he’s overcome with the desperate desire to hold Alex gently and kiss it better. To physically check over every inch of Alex’s body with his hands. His lips. His tongue. Using the only language that has never failed them to both give and take comfort. Their wires always seem to get crossed when they talk but he never has to second guess himself once Alex accepts his touch.

Michael finally finishes his ministrations and reaches up to put the makeshift bandage over the small hole in Alex’s chest, close enough to his heart that Michael is having to do his damnedest not to think about _that_ before he loses control and shakes the whole airstream apart.

He locks eyes with Alex as he presses the bandage down.

“I almost lost you,” he says, voice cracking slightly.

Maria shifts uncomfortably next to Alex, drawing Michael’s eye towards her and reminding Alex of her presence.

“ _Both_ of you,” Michael intones before glancing down guiltily and abruptly standing up, moving out of Alex’s personal space. Alex feels bereft without Michael’s hands on him, without the heat, and smell of rain surrounding him, and he hates himself a little bit for it. He is supposed to be supporting his friends and their new…whatever it was going on between them. But Michael is _here_ , and _close_. And Alex _wants_.

Maria stands with Michael, moving into his space and cupping his cheek, leading him into a gentle kiss with a soft “come here” and Alex…Alex thinks he might be sick.

He could deal with this, with _them_ from a distance. All he wants is for Michael to be happy, and Maria has always been a good, kind friend. He’s been trying to help smooth the way where he can, giving Maria some insight into who Michael _really_ is underneath that carefully constructed façade that he uses to keep people from getting too close. Alex should be happy for them, he thinks.

He isn’t.

Not right now. Right now, he can’t breathe.

“It’s getting late, I should go,” he blurs out. It’s the last thing he wants to do. The thought of having to stand up at all is mildly overwhelming at the moment, much less all he’ll have to do to wind down, meticulously searching his house enough to feel safe before finally getting to take off his leg. He’s not even sure who he could call at this hour to come get him, but he knows he absolutely cannot be in here, with them, for another second. He can’t watch Michael touching someone else, _kissing_ someone else. Not after just having Michael’s hands on his body for the past 15 minutes, drowning him in memories of scrapes, gentle kisses, bandages, and sex surrounded by the smell of rubbing alcohol. He is about to stand up when Maria drops down onto the bed next to him, clinging to his arm.

“I don’t _want_ you to go,” she says, using a tone of voice Alex hasn’t heard out of her since high school. The smell of her perfume is filling his nostrils, overwhelming the smell of rain, of _Michael_ , and he is…confused. Why was she kissing Michael right in front of him if it wasn’t an unsubtle invitation for him to leave so they could get on with it?

Unless… He distinctly remembers her complaining about Michael kissing someone in front of her as a way to be hurtful. Was she doing the same thing? Were they having a-a _competition_? Over a _boy_? Like the dumb high school girls they always snarked about when they were kids? He is trying to put the pieces together but, his mind is too muddled at the moment to make a coherent picture.

“I don’t really want to leave,” he says finally, exhaustion over the day’s events and trying to resist the unearthly pull Michael still has over him making him more frank than usual. Besides, they’re friends and if there is anyone he can be honest with, it’s Maria. And Michael. There is a nagging part of his brain reminding him that he hasn’t been honest with either of them by pretending to be happy about their budding relationship, but that, he tells himself, is different.

Alex sees Maria glance sideways at Michael while he is trying to untangle his own spiraling thoughts blanking out his surroundings and then, suddenly, she is _so close_. Her hands are on him, after they were just on Michael, and Michael’s were just on him and-and it’s _too much_. He hears her say something about them all being _safe_ and he wants to laugh because he suddenly feels _anything_ but safe, but his mind and body are sluggish and before he can move, or come up with a response, or _anything_ there are lips on his. Lips he doesn’t know the taste of, doesn’t _want_ to know the taste of. His brain utterly freezes in shock, leaving his body to stumble along, directionless, while he tries to make sense of what is happening.

It could have been seconds but it feels like ages before suddenly, the smell of rain is back and he blinks. Curls fill his vision, and the heat radiating off Michael’s back penetrates the fog. He reaches out blindly, pulling Michael around to face him, pressing their mouths frantically together, desperate to feel something, _anything_ other than the icy cold shock of a betrayal he has recognized viscerally but his brain is still trying to unravel. But Michael’s lips open with a sigh under his and his body turns towards Alex’s like a sunflower seeking the light and this? This Alex knows. _This_ is safe.

***

Michael feels ice in his veins. Maria had pressed her lips to his and after being so close to Alex and drenched in his smell and the memories of them together, it had felt so… _off_. He thought he had frozen then, everything gone slightly fuzzy at the edges, Maria’s voice sounding like it was underwater, but now, seeing her press those same lips to Alex’s mouth, _his_ Alex, Alex who does not kiss women, he feels like time has stopped. He might have said something, he can’t be sure. He can’t feel his lips, or his fingers, and the knot on the back of his head where that crazy bootmaker had hit him is suddenly throbbing. Is he sitting down now? When did that happen? There are hands, and lips on his body but his brain is still trying to catch up, skipping like a stuck record over the still somewhat foreign smell and feel of Maria.

But Michael knows the feeling of Alex’s hands, would know them anywhere, under any circumstances, and when they grab his body and turn him around, he goes willingly.

He _tried_. He tried to move on and be good for someone, for Maria, but he had failed. She found something wrong with him at every turn, always willing to accept the lowest estimation of his worth. Always willing to believe whatever front he tried to hide behind. He also tried being “just friends” with Alex, but the more they spent time learning about the men they had both become, the more he _wanted._ The future he had seen so clearly at 17, hazier and more distantly at 18, 19, the future he had started letting go of when he realized Alex was never coming back to stay, is suddenly bright again before his eyes, unfurling rich new details that fit with who they are now and colored in a little more each time Alex smiles.

He tried. But after keeping himself in check all evening, once Alex’s lips are on his, the damn breaks, the fog clears, and everything clicks. They are injured, they are together, and together they are safe. So, he lets go and kisses Alex back with everything, every last ounce he has been holding back. Since Alex showed up outside his airstream after nearly a year of no contact, three-quarters of a Manes Man. Since the drive-in, and the fights, and the revelation that Alex _knows_. Since the loss, and the hurt, and the trying to move on. Since nearly two hours ago when he first saw blood seeping through white cotton. This is the inevitable conclusion.

It’s nothing at all. It’s everything at once. It’s simple gravity at work, and who are they to fight the laws of the universe? So, they both quit trying, and finally, finally, give in to the need.


	2. The Argument

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After getting so wrapped up in each other that they forget about Maria entirely, Alex decides he is going to fight for Michael and confronts Maria about her treatment of Michael, and him, and what happened in the Airstream. This chapter picks up immediately following the previous chapter, and as always, is absolutely not Maria friendly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the salty, salty, spite part of this fic. This chapter contains discussions about what happened in the previous chapter and both Alex and Michael have some mild panic moments, so if you are sensitive to that, please take care of yourself and feel free to skim or skip this chapter. There is still one more chapter left (maybe two? depending on how I split it because it is loooong) which will be soft, sweet Malex and can be enjoyed alone without missing too much. 
> 
> A friendly reminder as well that Alex is an unreliable narrator and as such has some uncharitable thoughts about himself, and tends to place more blame on his shoulders than he should. Rest assured, I love Michael and Alex in equally large and unreasonable amounts and both of them deserve to be wrapped in softness and love from each other.

He can't hear anything over the pounding of his heart in his ears beating out the tattoo of "Alive. Safe. _Alex_.” as his mouth moves over the other man’s, tongues tangling together as they breathe each other in. Alex is okay, but he had been hurt, in _danger_ , and Michael feels more than hears the whine in his throat, coming as unbidden as the images behind his eyelids- Alex’s blood staining his shirt, the sterile alcohol wipes, even Michael's own skin as he tended to the wound. He clutches frantically at Alex, desperate to feel him under his palms in an effort to chase away those horrors.

There is a faint buzzing of background noise but, his brain can't focus enough to make sense of the sound. Everything in the world is narrowed down to Alex's mouth against his own, Alex's hands on his body, in his hair, grasping and pulling at his clothes while pleasure zings everywhere skin touches skin. He feels a foreign sensation on his arm and shrugs it off, pulling Alex closer, unable to process anything but his need to assure every sense he has that Alex is okay.

Alex for his part is just as lost. Lost in the scalding heat of Michael's skin everywhere it brushes his own, sinking down into his bones and chasing away the icy shock still lingering in his veins, that ever-present scent of petrichor grounding him like nothing else ever has. Lost in the feeling of Michael's mouth, fused to his own. Lost in the feeling of being able to breathe, finally, as he grasps at any part of Michael he can reach, working a hand under Michael's shirt to get at more skin while the other buries itself in soft curls. Lost in the sounds spilling from Michael's throat - desperate gasps, whines, and finally, the simplest litany of all- Alex's name, breathed over, and over, and over, like a prayer. Alex allows himself to be borne back as both of them fight to get their bodies as close as possible, but neither willing to stop kissing or touching each other long enough to do more than get tangled in their own clothing as it’s shoved out of the way to allow roving hands access to skin.

It's the slam of the airstream door ringing out like a shot that finally breaks through the haze of pleasure and safety, Alex’s military training kicking in and startling him out of the moment. Michael freezes as well but doesn’t move away, still shielding Alex’s body with his own. Slowly, they take a moment to calm their ragged breathing, looking at each other with wide eyes. Then Alex is gently pushing his palms against Michael’s chest, trying to force him back so he can get up. His head is starting to clear now and the icy feeling is back as he remembers what happened. What lead to him trying to bury himself in feeling nothing but Michael as if that would wipe out the _other_ feeling. The feeling of _her_. Michael deserves better than to be used like that.

However, Michael doesn’t seem to agree and lets out a low whine, trying to burrow closer which leads to a short and pointless struggle wherein Alex tries to extract himself from the octopus Michael has turned into, with limited success. He finally manages to sit up, guiding Michael, still clinging to his arm with both hands, off his lap and onto the bed to his left side. That behavior at least, is something he recognizes from long ago before he left for Basic, when Michel would cling to him in hopes of getting him to stay for just another five minutes. And another five after that.

“Guerin,” Alex sighs in fond exasperation, “I’m promise I’m not trying to leave.” For the first time in a long time, he is able to mean it.

“But?” Michael murmurs, not meeting his eyes.

“ _But_ , we need to go check on Maria.” Michael’s head snaps up and he blinks uncomprehendingly for a moment before a flush fills his face and he drops his eyes, curling in on himself in what looks like both shame and rejection.

“Hey, no, none of that,” he whispers, folding Michael into his arms like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He’s not really surprised to find that it is. Being with Michael has always been the most natural thing in the world. Not easy, no. Never _easy_ , but natural. Like the crashing of the tides eroding the cliffs, or the planets turning on their axes. As natural as breathing.

He probably shouldn’t, but Michael looks as fragile as he feels at the moment, the shock settling over both of them now that the haze of lust is starting to clear. So, he offers the comfort he has always wanted to give but didn’t think he could, considering he was usually the source of the hurt.

Michael buries himself into Alex’s side, wrapping arms around his waist and hiding his face in Alex’s neck as he lets out a shaky breath. Alex cards his fingers slowly through Michael’s hair, still trying to come down himself from roller-coaster today has been. There was the scraped raw feeling of poking around his past with Maria that afternoon and the adrenaline rush of his attack, followed by the high of having Michael on his knees between his thighs, patching him up with such a soft and delicate touch. And then the shock of the _other_ thing that happened, the thing they still had to deal with. And over all of that, still buzzing in his veins- Michael kissing him. Kissing him like he used to the first few times Alex came home on leave, like Michael was using his mouth to assure himself that every inch of Alex was safe. Like he used to before all the years, and the leaving, and the silence twisted what they had into something that hurt as much as it healed. Kissing Alex like he still has _hope_.

Slowly, Michael relaxes in Alex’s arms, both still shaking slightly. Now that they aren’t so consumed with each other they can hear Maria shouting faintly and Alex wonders who she called this late at night.

Alex can practically _feel_ the rage simmering on the other side of the airstream door but for the moment, with Michael pliant in his arms, breath puffing against his neck, holding him like he never wants to let go, he can’t bring himself to care. It’s been months and he has been pushing Maria back to Michael over and over again, turning aside every hurtful, incorrect assumption she’s had about him, each of them like a knife to the heart, knowing she didn’t _see_ Michael. Not really. He hates that he played a part in Michael putting those walls up, not allowing anyone to see beyond the angry, drunken cowboy image he projects. Even his siblings who should know better tend to treat Michael like some kind of screw up instead of a man failed by every person and system he ever came into contact with. Instead of someone who is so desperate for love he will bleed himself dry trying to give, and give, and give to whoever he loves in a desperate bid for them to _stay_ , asking for nothing in return so he won’t be labeled a burden.

So, Alex did the emotional labor for Maria, talking her through things and trying to help her see the real Michael when all he actually wanted to do was gather Michael up in his arms and tell him how he felt. How his stay in town was not a temporary leave this time and they finally had a chance to give this, give _them_ a real shot. How he wasn’t perfect but, he was trying, and he wanted to try together.

He has been doing his best to give Michael what he asked for and keep his distance because he has only ever wanted Michael to be happy. To be loved and to _know_ he is loved. That Alex couldn’t be all that for him had come as no surprise to Alex’s mind. He knows what him and Michael have had these past ten years wasn’t healthy but, he still remembers the feeling like a blow to the stomach when Michael said he liked Maria. Years of practicing keeping his emotions under control is the only thing that kept him from breaking down in front of Michael who was looking at him like a cornered animal, desperate for an out.

It broke his fucking heart.

But Michael kissed him today, not five minutes ago, like he still wants him. Michael is currently curled against him like there is nowhere in the world he would rather be. Like he is drawing comfort from having Alex so close. And that settles Alex’s mind about what comes next.

“I think she’s had a minute to cool down now, so I’m going to go out and try to smooth things over.”

Michael sighs, breath wafting across Alex’s skin and slightly ruffling the chest hair exposed by his undershirt. “I know. I’m coming with you,” Michael responds, though he doesn’t move.

Alex huffs a short laugh and gently disengages himself from Michael with a final stroke to those soft curls, trying to convince his heart to stop reacting like this is the last time he will be allowed to push Michael’s hair off his forehead.

It won’t be.

As horrible as this day has been it has produced one good thing-the knowledge that Michael is not ready to be done with him. Alex had wanted _so badly_ to be good for Michael too that he let him go without a fight. It was a moment of weakness that he won’t be repeating. Michael is and always has been worth the fight. Hell, Alex has fought in literal WARS in an effort to protect Michael from his dad’s ire and keep him safe. If all Michael needs is to understand all the ways they are good for each other now? How much Alex is ready and able to stay? Well. Alex has an arsenal at the ready.

***

Alex cautiously opens the door to the airstream and when he sees Maria pacing furiously a little ways away, continues slowly down the steps, Michael trailing behind.

“Maria,” he calls out cautiously.

Maria spins around, eyes blazing. “Oh, are you done already? Michael usually lasts longer with me,” she says with a poisonous, false smile and oh, Alex recognizes _that_ voice, though it’s never been turned on him before. She is _furious_. But Alex feels Michael’s full-body flinch behind him at her words and immediately any remorse he is harboring evaporates.

“Seriously?” He responds. He can see Michael now out of the corner of his eye, standing next to him a respectful distance away. He is holding his head up, but with the security lights from the junkyard Alex can see his eyes are downcast and his face is flushed, while his shoulders creep up to his ears.

Maria just arches a brow at him, so, he arches one back. He can do this all day.

“Did you come out here to actually apologize, or are you just coming out here to rub it in my face?”

Alex feels his brow wrinkle in confusion at her abject hostility. Sure, him and Michael got a _little_ carried away but he doesn’t see how a kiss, especially something _she_ started, warrants this level of vitriol.

“Apologize?” Alex gets out at the same time Michael starts to explain.

“We weren’t trying to rub anything in your face, we were coming out to check on you!”

Maria rolls her eyes and scoffs at both of them.

“Seriously, Maria,” Michael continues earnestly, stepping towards her. “We both wanted to make sure we cleared the air before you left.”

Maria snaps her head up, eyes flicking between both of them and looking as shocked as if she had been slapped. It’s only then that Michael realizes the implication she must have taken from his words: that he was expecting _her_ to go, leaving him and Alex here. Alone.

“Well, I _wanted_ to leave but I realized I didn't have my truck,” she replies back, her tone even sharper than before.

Alex snorts at that before he can stop himself. “Yeah, how do you think I felt?”

Both Michael and Maria turn to look at him, with mild shock and utter confusion respectively, and he nearly pulls something rolling his eyes.

“I wanted to leave too but I _also_ don’t have my vehicle. You know, the one with the special modifications for me to be able to drive? It’s not like I could just take Michael’s keys and head out,” he says with a pointed glance at Maria’s right hand and the very familiar keyring dangling from her fingers.

Maria looks away guiltily at that, setting the keys down on a nearby table, while Michael crinkles his brow like he is trying to piece together what Alex just said and Alex makes a mental note to check him out for a concussion and maybe call Kyle if he has concerns.

“Well, you said you didn’t _really_ want to leave, so,” she trails off.

“Yeah, because I was dreading the idea of getting back up on my leg and going home alone after nearly dying, NOT because I wanted to stick around and watch the two of you make out.” Alex responds with an eye roll, trying to keep his tone light so Michael doesn’t think he’s judging or blaming him for anything. He looked just as taken aback as Alex had been in that moment.

At the mention of his leg, Michael absentmindedly pulls one of his camp chairs over with his powers, close enough for Alex to reach out and grab onto. Alex appreciates the gesture, and that Michael doesn’t tell him directly he needs to sit. With all the agitation and adrenaline thrumming through his veins he is definitely not able to let his defenses down that much or put himself in such a vulnerable position. He braces on the back of the chair with his left hand, keeping as much weight off his right side as possible. Easing the weight off his prosthetic is worth the added pressure on his currently wounded side, and he gives Michael a nod in thanks before turning back to Maria who was watching the domestic exchange with a glare.

“Sooo,” she says, drawing the word out, arms crossed in obvious irritation. “You _chose_ to stay.” The statement comes out like a fact, not a question and Alex feels his temper rise in a way he isn’t used to with Maria.

“Did I?” He responds incredulously. “Can I honestly _choose_ to stay if leaving isn’t really an option?”

“Please. You’re bigger _and_ stronger than me. It’s not like I was holding you hostage or anything!” Maria snaps back and Alex feels another sharp spike of anger, though this time there is a guilt and shame mixed in that he isn’t ready to examine. But much quieter under her exclamation he hears a soft, “Alex?” Michael steps a little closer to him, reaching a hand out as if to touch his arm but stops when he hears Maria’s scoff, folding his hand into a fist and pulling it back.

“Alex, did you really want to leav- Maria, he wanted to leave!” Michael’s voice gets louder and he can feel the panic starting to rise, remembering all the times in his life he’s wanted to leave situations and wasn’t able to and how trapped he’d felt. He might have a reputation as a drunk and an easy lay, but he always maintains enough control to make sure anyone he hooks up with is totally on board, and that both of them can get out of the situation if needed. It has meant more than one threat by Max of a public indecency charge for messing around in his truck in the Wild Pony parking lot, but it has also meant never having to see the look on anyone’s face that Alex had on his when talking to Maria just now. A toxic mixture of shame and guilt, tinged with self-loathing and disgust.

Michael feels himself starting to lose control as his thoughts spiral out and his breath comes quick, but then Alex puts a firm hand on his shoulder, ducking a bit to catch his eye.

“Hey,” Alex says softly, taking a slow, deep breath that Michael mimics out of habit. “Is your head still bothering you?”

“What?” Michael asks, startled out of his spiraling thoughts by the non-sequitur, just as Alex no doubt intended.

“Your head. I’m worried you have a concussion. Why don’t you go grab some acetone?” Michael opens his mouth to protest but Alex cuts him off. “I could also use some water, if you have some.” 

Michael knows what Alex is trying to do but he really does need a moment, so he nods and heads back into the airstream.

After Michael leaves, Alex turns back to Maria who had pulled out her phone and was texting someone. Hopefully a ride.

“He’s not made of glass, you know.” Maria comments, sliding her phone into her back pocket and crossing her arms again.

“I know, but some crazy man smashed him in the head, and it isn’t like he can go to the hospital to make sure it’s nothing serious.”

“I’m talking about you sending him away, so he doesn’t hear us fight. You don’t need to treat him like he’s going to break. He’s tougher than you give him credit for.”

“I am fully aware of how tough Michael is.”

Maria opens her mouth to continue arguing but Alex cuts her off. “But are you aware of how sensitive he is?” Her mouth snaps shut, and Alex tries (mostly unsuccessfully) not to take any pleasure in knowing Michael hadn’t revealed that part of himself to her. Not fully.

“He has his moments, but he isn’t the soft, wide-eyed boy you left behind in high school.”

Alex takes the pointed barb, because she’s right, Michael has changed. But she didn’t know him back then, and she doesn’t know him now. Not like Alex does- and some things don’t change. Michael might have buried the softest parts of himself to keep them safe, but they are still there.

“Michael didn’t get to have the kind of childhood that leaves kids soft and wide-eyed into their teens. Neither did I.”

“You know what I meant. He’s grown up into one tough son of a bitch. All the comments just roll off or he comes back swinging. Either way, he’s a big boy and can take care of himself. He doesn’t need you coddling him.”

“You’re just getting the same front he puts up for everyone.”

“What is _that_ supposed to mean?”

“It _means_ I have constantly been having to navigate your non-relationship with him for you!” Alex says, throwing his hands out to the side, her incredulous look having finally snapped a bit of his tight emotional control.

“I had to tell you that he was struggling when it should have been obvious, just so you would maybe _talk_ to him about what he was going through and offer him some actual support instead of automatically assuming the worst, or just plying him with alcohol and hoping it would go away.”

“That isn’t-” she started, but Alex wasn’t finished.

“I had to tell you that Michael wasn’t a “Chad” _just_ this morning. Hell, I’m the one that noticed he was on the verge of panicking not two minutes ago! And I had to explain that he was keeping a secret from you, not to be difficult or to hurt you, but because it is _literally_ the difference between life, and death or worse for him, Max and Isobel.”

Alex is trying to reign in his temper, but after everything today, his normally compartmentalized emotions are closer to the surface than he would like, images of Caulfield blending in his mind with images from the shed and the horrors he had seen overseas, reminding him of the awful nature of man. “There are government agencies that kept _sentient beings in cages and experimented on them for decades_. This isn’t a GAME, Maria. People weren’t hiding things from you to be mean, or petty, and more than just Michael’s life was at stake if he had told you, and you reacted badly. Not just Isobel and Max’s lives either, but the lives and careers of everyone involved. Max, Jenna, Kyle, and Liz were _all_ involved in research, covering up Noah’s death, and hiding Rosa. _I_ was involved. Telling you wasn’t really Michael OR Liz’s call to make alone. I get that you’re upset about how it was handled-”

“Do you?” Maria snaps. “My mind was _invaded_ , I was used as a _puppet_ , and you didn’t think I deserved to be told?!”

“I never said tha-”

Michael closes his eyes trying to shut out the words floating to him on the still evening air. He bangs his head forward once into the cabinet over sink and immediately regrets it at the spike of pain he feels. That murderous bastard must have clocked him harder than he thought. Maybe Alex was right to be worried, he muses as he takes another small sip from the bottle of acetone he pulled from under the sink, along with a couple bottles of water.

He listens for another moment, feeling both grateful and a little ashamed of hiding out as the argument turns back to him. Though to be fair, he assumed Alex and Maria already had this argument ages ago. After the kiss followed immediately by Max’s death, Maria had been fairly overt in her pursuit of him and he figured her and Alex already talked it out. Then, when Alex didn’t back off, he was so confused and lashed out, making sure Alex knew he was interested in Maria, regardless of the fact that he was just trying to find a place to hide for awhile. He figured Alex would leave like he always did and give him some space to break down in peace. He could handle the looks and jabs of everyone in this hellhole of a town, he didn’t give a rat’s ass what any of them thought about him anyways. But what he couldn’t handle, was Alex looking at him with disappointment. Alex expecting better of him when he had already given everything and had nothing left. Alex looking at him and deciding he was too broken and wasn’t worth all the effort Alex had put in over the years. That? That would have truly killed him.

So, he did what he did best and pushed and pushed but for some reason, Alex never left. Alex never turned on him in anger. Alex never talked to him like he was a failure, he just gave Michael what he asked for-space, time, an investigative partner-whatever Michael needed. It was driving him mad. That day at the Long Farm had been so easy, and _fun_ , and then Alex had presented him with the ship piece and confessed that he didn’t want Michael to go but that he refused to stand in the way, and Michael’s head had been spinning ever since. It’s probably only Max’s resurrection (and Alex’s busy schedule at the base) that has kept the events of tonight from happening much sooner if Michael’s being honest. Hiding from the hurt, trying to bury it in unfamiliar skin, wasn’t working. But a single afternoon being able to relax and joke with Alex had him feeling more at peace than he had since their two weeks of “reconnecting” when Alex first came back, and for years and years before that. It was only a matter of time before he and Alex ended up here. He just didn’t plan on Maria being around, especially after she found out about Rosa and demanded that he never darken her doorway again. He had tried calling multiple times wanting to tell her what he could, hopefully easing the sting of betrayal a little, but until today she hadn’t even answered the phone, much less allowed him to explain.

The volume has been steadily rising outside while Michael has been lost in thought and he knows he can’t hide forever. He tosses back another swallow of acetone, braces himself, and heads back into the fray.

“I didn’t kno-“

“You DID know, Maria! You _knew_ that I wasn’t over him, that I was feeling hopeful about him and you said it didn’t mean anything.”

“ _He_ came on to _me,_ Alex! He made it clear that you two were long over.”

“But you knew _I_ was still in love with him! So what? You were okay with someone getting hurt in all this as long as it wasn’t you?”

And isn’t that a revelation, Michael thinks, though he keeps quiet as they haven’t seemed to noticed his presence yet and he is loath to have their anger turned on him when he is currently feeling such a spark of joy at Alex admitting he still loves him.

Maria glowers at Alex. “Hey, don’t turn this back around on me! I didn’t think your little one-sided, nostalgic pining was even worth thinking about as a threat until tonight. _You_ pushed me to it! I saw how you were looking at him while he was bandaging you up. I figured that it was time I reminded BOTH of you that he chose _me,”_ Maria snaps, pointing between the two of them and Michael sighs. So much for staying inconspicuous.

“He wasn’t blowing up YOUR phone for the past few weeks desperate for your attention,” Maria tacks on, and Alex, having noticed Michael walking back over to them in his periphery, can see the way he shrinks into himself at the careless words and it raises his hackles even more. He knows how much Michael tries not to let anyone see that he has needs. And maybe it’s his own guilt at having played a part in reinforcing Michael’s abandonment issues, coupled with his anger, hurt, and confusion over what Maria did to him earlier, but he feels a frisson of rage toward Maria he has never felt before.

“Apparently I was right to be worried though,” she continues, unconscious of the way Michael is gravitating protectively towards Alex as though he can sense how upset Alex truly is.

“God, if I wasn’t here, you two would probably still be going at it like rabbits!” She says with a sneer. “Wait,” Her face slackens with dawning awareness of how close Michael has moved to Alex, then twists in anger.

“Has this been going on the whole time? Is that why you were so- so- _understanding_ ,” she hisses at Alex, “About me trying to make this work? Because you were still _fucking_ _him_ _behind my back_?”

“No, Maria, I would _never_ ,” Michael buts in, no longer able to stay out of the heated argument. His eyes are wide and he looks positively horrified by the implication, but Maria barely spares him a glance and keeps talking over him.

“I should have known. You two made that “first aid” experience nearly indecent with the way you were- were… _panting_ after each other,” she shouts gesticulation wildly.

“Maria, it’s not like that!” Michael tries again, but Maria, though clearly speaking to Alex, turns her laser focus on Michael, eyes glinting with anger.

“I don’t know what I expected from the town’s biggest man-whor-“

“Hey!” Alex snaps, cutting her off. “That is NOT fair.”

“Fair? You want to talk about _fair_?” Maria snaps back, “Let’s talk about you going to town on MY boyfriend whil-”

“I wasn’t aware you two were dating,” Alex shoots back at the same time Michael says, “Boyfriend? You’ve refused to even speak to me for weeks!”

Alex tries to keep the smug look he can feel trying to break out on his face from showing too much, but by the venomous glare Maria shoots him, it isn’t working.

“And before that, _you_ said it was non-exclusive, and on a trial basis!” Michael points out.

Maria scoffs. “I just said that because I knew I couldn’t trust you to not get drunk and stick your- _tongue_ into whoever was closest.” She says it in a way that makes it very clear she didn’t _just_ mean his tongue.

Michael’s eyes are wide and hurt and Alex sees him swallow down whatever reply had been on the tip of his tongue as he tucks his hands into his pockets, shoulders hunching back up to his ears in shame.

“That was a low blow, Maria,” Alex snaps back but Maria just continues to glare at Michael.

“It’s not wrong though.”

“You really don’t know a single thing about him at all, do you?” Alex says, moving to step between Michael, and Maria’s nasty glare, the absolute confidence in his voice spreading warmth through Michael at the unexpected defense.

“You’ve been gone for ten years, Alex. Maybe you don’t know him as well as you think you do.”

Michael feels the words hit him full force despite the shield Alex has made his body into between him and Maria. The sting of them is sharp but Alex’s answering snort sooths away the pain.

“Please,” Alex turns his head to look at Michael, expression going soft and fond for a moment. “I may not know what his current favorite color or song is, or when exactly he started wearing belt-buckles the size of my hand, or how many people he has picked up at the Pony over the years, but I know what kind of a man he is.” At that, he turns back to Maria, eyes going hard again. “And he is not cruel, or heartless, and he is _certainly_ not a cheater.”

Maria rolls her eyes and starts to respond, but Alex cuts her off.

“And even if he _was_ , that’s irrelevant here. YOU started this!”

“Yeah, and you took it over the line.”

“To be fair, Michael and I have been doing that for over a decade now. If anyone was out if line it was you.”

“What?!” Maria shoots back, a look of incredulity on her face.

“You _kissed me_ , Maria! What the hell were you thinking?! You were one of the first people I came out to, I thought we were friends!

“Oh my god, Alex it was just a kiss! Why are you freaking out over this?”

“We _literally_ talked about it this morning!” Alex replies, voice rising slightly in his exasperation at her refusal to understand.

“Yeah, I know! And _you_ said that my touch felt safe!” Maria says, volume rising to match Alex’s.

“Because we were _kids_ and you were my _family_ , Maria!” Alex shouts back, and that seems to stun her into silence but Alex keeps going, his eyes slightly wild. “Basically the ONLY family I had at that point that didn’t physically _hurt_ _me_. My home life was just “boys will be boys” and malicious beatings disguised as “roughhousing”. You, Mimi, and Liz were pretty much the only people who I could trust for physical affection back then, so yes, your touch felt safe. Safe enough for me to participate in a childish game in order to fit in at a party some, what, thirteen _years_ ago?! I was a _kid_ Maria, still trying to figure out if I was broken because I didn’t feel all the things I’d been told my _whole life_ I was supposed to feel for girls like you.” Michael sees Alex’s chest heaving and his hands beginning to shake when he throws them out to the side while he’s talking, and he can’t help but take another protective step towards him.

“Forgive me for assuming that after 20-something years of friendship, that I could still count on you for comfort and sisterly affection without you making it into something sexual because of some stupid _fantasy_ you’ve been holding on to all this time.”

Alex sees Maria staring at him in shock and he is still trying process the word vomit he just spewed himself, but it’s difficult over the sound of blood rushing in his ears and the harsh sound of someone breathing like they just ran a marathon. He instantly searches out Michael’s face but Michael is just staring at him in concern. It’s then he realizes the sound is him, and he grabs for the chair, Michael giving it a slight nudge so it’s back within reach. He leans heavily on the back, taking a swig of the water Michael had left for him on the seat.

“I just wanted us to all be safe together,” Maria finally responds, voice gone quite in the wake of Alex’s anger.

“What?” Michael askes, more confused than ever, at the same time Alex, having gotten his breath back, responds with a sharp, “What the _fuck_ does that even mean, Maria?”

Maria’s eyes flit around, unable to settle on anything as she tries to come up with an answer.

“Some crazy dude was trying to _kill_ us! I just thought we could all work out the adrenaline rush, together! Stop acting like it’s such a big deal!

“It IS a big deal! What did you think was going to happen, Maria?” Alex fires back. “That I would be so stupefied by getting _literally stabbed in the chest_ that I would suddenly forget that I’m not sexually attracted to you and that touching women like that makes me want to _disappear_ ,” he purposefully throws in the word from their conversation that morning with a tilt of his head.

“No, I _thought_ it was just going to be some meaningless comfort sex,” Maria snaps. “You guys could get the last of whatever this is,” she says as she waves her hand vaguely between them, “out of your systems, and you could finally let Michael go since he’s moved on with _me_!”

Michael is staring at her in shock but Alex is fixated on a single word.

“Meaningless? _Meaningless?_ _Nothing_ about what Michael and I have is _meaningless_.” He spits the last word out, dripping with venom. “It wasn’t meaningless when I was 17 and offered him a place to stay, or when I gave him Greg’s guitar,” he says, abandoning his hold on the chair in favor of pacing forward with intensity.

“It wasn’t meaningless when we kissed in the UFO museum or-or after,” he stutters, but presses on, unwilling to allow that particular trauma to interrupt him. Not now. This is important. He can feel Michael’s eyes boring holes in the side of his head and Maria’s face is doing complicated things, and Alex _knows_ down in his bones that this moment is going to change everything. So, he swallows around the memory of that day in the shed and continues, softer now but no less intense.

“It wasn’t meaningless every time I risked a beating, or missed meals just so I could lay down in the bed of his truck and look at the sky for five more minutes in safety. It wasn’t meaningless when I lied to everyone about what bus I took home that first year of tech school after basic so I could spend Christmas Eve with Michael without my father knowing. It wasn’t meaningless when I spent all those hours that night watching over him while he slept just to make sure nothing happened to him because I was too selfish to give him up. It wasn’t meaningless the next Christmas when I had to leave without saying goodbye because my dad-” Alex cut himself off, closing his eyes for a moment before continuing.

Michael watches as Alex finally stops pacing and turns the full force of his eyes on Michael and though he is still speaking to Maria, he is entirely focused on making sure Michael is hearing him.

“It wasn’t meaningless when we spent two weeks in bed reconnecting when I first got back to Roswell, it wasn’t meaningless when I waited here all night to explain how I wanted to do better, and it sure as hell wasn’t meaningless when I sat on those steps all the next morning so I could finally take him out for breakfast and we could talk.”

Alex has shifted closer and closer to Michael while speaking, finally reaching out to hold Michael’s hand, interlacing their fingers. Michael swallows as Alex continues looking into his eyes and drawing their bodies close.

“This isn’t over, Maria. It was never over-not for me- and it has never, _ever_ been anything less than the most important relationship in my life. I’d say I’m sorry you’re losing whatever friends-with-benefits thing you had going on here, but I’m not. Michael deserves better. I have been doing a shitty job but I am finally able to be here, and put in the work on this. On _us_.”

Alex is looking up into Michael’s eyes with an intensity that is overwhelming.

Before anyone else can say anything, a pair of headlights sweep across the area and a horn honks as a car pulls up to the entrance of the junkyard.

“Goodnight, Maria,” Alex says simply without turning away from Michael, leaving her to stare at both of them, a complicated mix of emotions flickering across her face before she walks away.

Michael feels like a weight has been lifted but now that Maria has left, Alex is looking down at his feet, shoulders heavy like his anger had been all that was holding him up before.

“It wasn’t meaningless,” he says, nearly in a whisper. “Michael, it wasn’t meaningless every time I asked you meet me at a seedy motel instead of going to your airstream. Or when I asked you to come without your truck so no one would know. I should have told you, but I thought if you knew how selfish I was being, how I was putting you in danger, that you wouldn’t-” he cuts himself off and starts again, still not looking Michael in the face. “My dad-, I would leave my car parked in a random lot and walk so he could-couldn’t trace-” and suddenly he just can’t get the words out anymore.

And then Michael is there holding him, gently with barely any pressure so Alex can step away if he wants to. He doesn’t. The thought never crosses his mind. He just sets his hands on Michael’s hips and rests his forehead on his shoulder and closes his eyes. His stump is on fire, his hip and back are a mess of pain, but he feels lighter now, like lancing a wound to drain the infection.

After far too short a moment, Alex pulls back from Michael with a deep breath, taking a few steps back to grab another drink of water from the bottle Michael brought for him.

“Oh no, I know that face,” Michael immediately comments, trying to shift the mood into something lighter knowing that Alex is likely to turn his scrutiny on them and how none of this should have happened this way. He might be right, but Michael can’t find it in himself to regret kissing Alex tonight and it might crush him to find out Alex _did_.

“What face?”

“That’s your “we need to talk” face,” Michael says swaggering closer, and praying Alex will want to fall back into old habits instead.

“Michael, we _do_ need to tal-”

“ ‘Bout what? Because I don’t want to talk about anything unless we’re discussing how _incredibly_ hot you are when you’re pissed off,” Michael says with a smirk, running his fingertips down Alex’s chest to hook into the top of his pants. “At someone who isn’t me,” he finishes, already drawing Alex back in, eyes at half-mast.

Dear god, he’s beautiful like this, in the moonlight. But Alex is older now, wiser, and he can see the small cracks in the overtly sexual veneer. Michael’s body is deliberately loose, but he still carries tension in the set of his jaw, in the way the corners of his mouth wobble slightly. There is a fine tremor in his hands where they are reaching out to Alex, and his pulse is hammering in his throat. He is clearly still upset and trying to hide it and Alex can’t blame him. That argument had gotten more out of hand than he was sure either of them wanted, but it needed to be done.

Alex stops Michael’s wondering hands but laces their fingers together when he sees Michael’s smirk start to wobble dangerously, lest he think Alex is rejecting him.

“Let’s go back inside. I don’t think either of us should be alone right now.” Michael looks like he is going to argue with him, gearing up to trade barbs like they always do until one of them leaves and they can lick their wounds in private. But this time, Alex isn’t running. He just squeezes Michael’s hands and looks him in the eyes, steadfast. Trying to project that he is _here_ , and he isn’t going anywhere. The moment passes and Michael deflates, the anger and previous sexual façade draining out of him like a punctured balloon.

“Okay,” he replies on a sigh. “Okay, let’s go inside” But he doesn’t move towards the airstream. He just stands there, fingers intertwined with Alex’s, looking like he could collapse under the slightest of breezes. Alex uses their joined hands to pull Michael in as he slowly backs towards the open door of the airstream and Michael allows himself to be led, trusting that maybe, this time, things will be different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whooo! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! It has been a LONG time coming and I know many people have been eagerly awaiting this moment. I sure hope it lived up to all the hype! Next chapter is the aftermath of this argument and it is...guys, it is so fluffy and soft and sweet. I am so excited to share it with you as a balm for all the fire in this chapter which, while absolutely justified, left our boys a little singed and in need of some care. As always, come yell at me on [Tumblr](%E2%80%9Clovecolibri.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D) about all things Malex, or any of my other random interests. If you're interested in a more thorough breakdown of the consent issues inherent in That Scene I made a whole post about it here.


	3. Confessions in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex and Michael take care of each other after a harrowing day and take the chance to talk, sharing secrets, fears, and apologies. This is soft, soft Malex, bringing ALL of the comfort after the hurt they have endured.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sincerely hope you all enjoy this chapter and Soft MalexTM as much as I do. 💙 Fun fact! They keep showing the airstream from different angles and I can never tell which side the door is on and which side the bed is on but I *think* they are on the same side. But either way, Michael sleeping with his head against the partition bit instead of against the back wall weirds me out, so for the purposes of this fic, they are tucked into the back corner of the airstream bed (like in 1x02 when Michael pushes Alex down onto the bed) like normal people so they aren't sleeping facing away from the door like psychopaths.

Once they are inside, Michael just stands there, looking lost and Alex, Alex is so tired. Tired in that bone-deep way that extends past his aching body into his very soul and it looks like Michael feels the same. Alex sighs and turns away, planning to start rifling through Michael’s drawers for something to sleep in, when Michael’s hand shoots out and grabs his arm, eyes wide.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Alex says softly and draws Michael in, letting him wrap his arms around Alex’s waist and bury his face in his neck. They both stand there, just breathing for a bit until Alex pulls back again, slowly this time. Gently, his reaches up and cradles Michael’s face in his hands, making sure Michael’s eyes are meeting his.

“I told you already, I’m not leaving, at least, I don’t want to leave. I always feel safe here. With you.” At that, Michael tries to snuggle back in and Alex keeps him back, huffing a little laugh at the petulant face Michael makes at being denied.

“Michael,” Alex says, using his Stern Captain voice. It’s less harsh than his Commanding Captain voice, but it usually works to get people to listen up. Michael’s eyes flair wide, darkening for just a moment which is something Alex is now desperately trying not to get distracted by, filing the information away for later.

“We probably need to talk, BUT,” he continues, talking over Michael’s soft whine of protest, “more importantly, I also need to know that _you_ are safe,” Alex smiles slightly at Michael’s blush and slowly brushes his thumbs across the heated skin of his cheeks. “And I want to make sure I don’t need to call Kyle to check you out for a concussion.”

Michael scrunches up his nose in distaste at Kyle’s name. “Can’t we can do that later? I feel fine, and I don’t think I have the energy to deal with being poked and prodded at right now, especially by Valenti. ‘What did you do to your head, Guerin?’, ‘Does it hurt when I push on this very obvious bruise, Guerin?’ ‘Maybe stay away from madmen with murderous intent, _Guerin_.’” Michael rattles off.

Alex rolls his eyes. “Fine, but let me check you over at least.”

Michael gives a long-suffering sigh but dutifully turns around, bowing his head and pulling his hair back as best he can from the general area of soreness he can feel. Goosebumps break out across his skin as he feels Alex’s fingers softly probing the back of his head and he tries his best not to flinch when Alex finds the knot there. He doesn’t quite manage it though and he hears Alex hiss in sympathy, then feels a squeeze to his shoulder before Alex’s hands slide up to meet his own in his hair, gently untangling them from the curls and guiding his arms down before Alex is turning him back around. Before he can say anything, Alex is holding his chin and looking intently at his pupils, tilting his head this way and that. Michael feels himself relaxing even more under the familiarity of being manhandled by Alex, the cacophony of noise in his head quieting down enough for him to feel like he has finally caught his breath after all that has happened. He must have been too relaxed and stared drifting though, because suddenly fingers are snapping in his face and the normal sounds of the night come rushing back in as Alex’s concerned face swims into focus.

“Sorry,” Michael says, giving his head a gentle shake to clear it. “I must have zoned out. What did you say?”

“I asked if you were having any pain, blurry vision, dizziness, nausea, confusion, or trouble focusing,” Alex says, brows still drawn in tight with worry.

“No, I’m fine, Alex. I promise. I think I’m just tired after…” he gestures vaguely.

Alex nods but doesn’t look convinced. Michael can practically see him weighing options and trying to decide if it’s too late, (or too early?) to call Kyle for a consult.

“Alex, I promise, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure, Michael? Because you’ve exhibited some symptoms of pain, confusion and inability to focus at the very least, and I have no idea if you were knocked fully unconscious, and if so, for how long and-”

He stops mid-sentence as Michael levitates over a fresh, cool bottle of water in front of his face and unscrews the cap with his mind before summoning over a pair of plastic cups and pouring a little bit into each glass before closing the bottle and floating it over to sit on the counter. Michael plucks his cup out of the air and drains it before gesturing that Alex should do the same. At least some of the worry has eased from Alex’s face replaced with fond exasperation and a bit of carefully concealed delight at Michael’s antics that he only catches because he knows Alex so well.

“See? No trouble with my vision or focus, and the acetone worked for the pain. I’d tell you who the president is, but I don’t really want to.” Michael thinks for a moment, then breaks out into a grin. “If I say it’s Taylor Swift will you still call Valenti?”

Alex snorts at that and rolls his eyes, though he has a small smile on his face as he tosses back the water Michael poured for him and sets the cup on the counter.

“Can we please drop this, at least for now?”

Alex lets out a heavy sigh, but nods his head. “I don’t want to disturb Kyle this late if we don’t have to, especially on his night off, and I really need to get off my le-”

“Oh my god, _Alex_!” Michael’s eyes widen on horror as he looks down at Alex’s leg and Alex can see his face scrunch as he likely calculates how many hours Alex has been on his prosthetic, probably factoring in the fight with the crazy bootmaker, the running, how long they were outside with Maria, and how long Alex has been checking him over as well. Alex figures if he’s still automatically running needless calculations for things, his head is probably fine enough. He can always get with Kyle in the morning if he has more concerns or Michael starts displaying new symptoms.

Michael guides him back and sits him on the nearest edge of the bed then turns to the drawers Alex had originally been heading for when they first got inside and grabs a white t-shirt, a pair of soft, loose, grey cotton sleep pants, and a pair of loose black shorts. He leaves the shorts on the bed near the drawers sets the t-shirt and sleep pants next to Alex.

“Thanks, Michael.” Alex says softly as he reaches for the clothes. He’s not looking forward to standing back up and hobbling to the bathroom now that he’s sat down, but at least the trailer is small enough he should be able to make it back to the bed without a crutch if he needs to. As he goes to get up, Michael puts a gentle hand on his shoulder, keeping him seated.

“Let me?” he asks quietly, face full of concern.

“Okay,” Alex agrees just as quietly.

Michael slowly reaches down, grabbing the hem of Alex’s undershirt and pulling it over his head careful not to jostle Alex’s wound. Michael tosses the shirt aside, and Alex is about to stand up to get himself out of his jeans when Michael gets to his knees in the same position he was earlier while patching Alex up. He looks up at Alex, searching his eyes for something, and when Alex doesn’t stop him he leans in, oh so slowly, sliding his hands from where they are braced on the tops of Alex’s thighs up to his waist, skirting over his sides before coming to rest high on his ribs, as though he’s afraid Alex might bolt like a skittish horse if he moves too quickly. He holds Alex steady between his palms as he leans in, pressing a very soft, gentle kiss over the bandage on his chest before resting his forehead on Alex’s collar bone and taking a deep breath.

He pulls back then and looks down, busying himself with Alex’s belt and pants. Alex grabs onto Michael’s shoulders for leverage and lifts himself up enough that Michael can slide his jeans down. Alex has every intention of starting the process of removing his prosthetic while Michael works on getting his shoes and pants the rest of the way off, but Michael’s head is practically in his lap and the warm puffs of his breath are sending Alex’s brain functions offline, along with ripples of gooseflesh across his skin.

Michael doesn’t seem to notice, too focused on the task at hand, finally divesting Alex of his shoes, socks, and pants, only to find Alex sitting on the bed staring dumbly at him. At that, a cocksure grin crosses his face briefly before he nods at Alex’s leg.

“You want me to take care of that for you?” The smirk and innuendo is clearly evident in his voice and on his face and Alex has to resist the urge to roll his eyes. He shakes his head “no” and goes to reach down for the release valve when a spasm makes him freeze, letting out a hiss of pain.

“Alex?” Michael asks worriedly, hands hovering over Alex’s leg but not touching, not yet. The spasm passes and Alex lets out a deep breath.

“That offer for help still on the table?” he askes a little breathlessly. Michael feels his face light up. He proudly goes through the motions of removing the prosthetic and liner without faltering and Alex stares at him, aghast.

“Where did you-“ he starts to ask but Michael starts to blush and fiddle with his hands and it’s so adorably sweet that the rest of Alex’s question trails off.

“I, uh, I watched a lot of videos. Some from medical sites but a lot from amputees themselves to on how to do everything, from putting on and removing different kinds of prosthetics, to residual limb care and massage, as well as different physical therapy exercises.” Michael has been looking up at Alex through his lashes but glances away again clearing his throat.

“I-I also read up on accessibility needs after-“ he pauses to clear his throat again and Alex sees his blush get darker though Michael still isn’t meeting his eyes. “Before the morning when you stayed and Isob-“ he cuts himself off again, taking a breath and blowing it out, but finally lifting his head to meet Alex’s eyes. “I had been hoping this time would be different, since you were stationed here in town. I thought-I thought you might stay but then you never did, and I thought maybe it was me, but you kept coming back, you just…you just never stayed.” He was speaking fast now, his words tumbling over each other, but his hands gripped Alex tightly, as though afraid Alex would try and leave before he got it all out.

“And then I thought maybe it was my place. Now that you weren’t just slumming it in town with me on leave, now that you actually _lived_ here, with a place of your own, that you thought it was…beneath you or something.” Alex heard more than felt his gasp, his lips gone numb with horror that Michael would ever, _could_ ever think that Alex was ashamed of him or what he had worked so hard to build for himself, despite the whole world fighting against him. He reaches out desperate counter those thoughts, but Michael just looks at him fondly and shakes his head.

“And then I realized that _maybe_ ,” he continues with a small, self-deprecating smile, “it wasn’t all about me, and my place just wasn’t accessible enough for you to feel comfortable staying here. Once I realized that could be part of the issue but you were probably too stubborn to bring it up, I-I started looking and asking around for some things, and then, after Isobel left that day, I-” he’s back to blushing, self-consciously rubbing his left hand across the back of his neck.

“I bought a shower chair!” he blurts out finally, cautiously peaking up at Alex as if to gauge his reaction, and Alex feels his mouth drop open in shock.

“You…what?” he chokes out.

“I-uh, bought a shower chair,” Michael repeats at a slightly more normal volume. “I picked it up along with a couple of grab-bars from an estate sale that afternoon. I know this place is small and you could probably maneuver through here okay, but I wouldn’t want you to be afraid of falling if you were in the bathroom or wanted to shower,” he mumbles out the last bit a little sheepishly. 

“I was going to show you, the next time you came back, but…you never did,” he clears his throat gently and glances up at Alex with a halfhearted smirk that wobbles slightly before he looks down again, and Alex feels his heart squeeze in response. He _had_ come back inside the trailer, once, but he’d been too busy worrying about what he wanted to say to Michael at the time, and too respectful of Michael’s privacy, even if it was somewhat limited, to go snooping around. He wonders if things may have turned out differently if he had found the accommodations Michael had made for him, and asked him about them that night.

“I managed to scrounge up a pair of crutches too from Mr. Ortecho, just to have on hand. They’re the regular kind, not the nice ones like you have that go around the arms, but,” Michael shrugs slightly, “I figured they would be better than nothing in a pinch.”

Alex stares at Michael in absolute wonder, reaching out to cup his cheek and gently tilting his face up until Michael meets his eyes, and what he sees nearly punches the breath out of him. Michael is staring at him with such care and devotion, eyes wide and guileless, and Alex is, as always, helpless before him. He reaches up slowly with his other hand and cradles Michael’s face between his palms, stroking his thumbs across those beloved cheekbones.

“You are,” he has to pause to clear his throat and he pushes out a breath before he can continue, overcome with emotion. “You are the most amazing, caring, _loving_ person Michael, despite everything this world did to stamp that kindness out and make you hard.” Michael, whose eyes had been fluttering shut at the praise and gentle caresses snorts and Alex huffs and rolls his eyes, but smiles down at Michael’s face, thinking he has never seen him look quite so at peace.

Michael sighs as Alex moves from stroking his face to gently stroking his curls. He turns sideways and settles himself on the floor letting his legs stretch out long and resting his weight into his right shoulder against the side of the bed. His back is back lightly pressed to Alex’s good leg, head tipped back on Alex’s thigh and together they allow themselves to sit in silence for a moment.

Michael quickly realizes he is dangerously close to falling asleep sitting on the floor fully clothed and head in Alex’s lap- leaving the poor man trapped and unable to lay down- sitting in nothing but his briefs and medical gauze.

He reaches up catching one of Alex’s hands as it pulls back for another gentle stroke through his curls and softly brushes his lips across the knuckles before maneuvering himself up to standing, watching to see if Alex looks at the strip of skin exposed when he stretches his arms up.

He does.

Michael gives him a knowing smirk and then turns to hold out his hand, using just a hint of his power to call a very special bottle of lotion into the room.

“Is that?” Alex asks, eyes wide and Michael nods, feeling his heart swell with pride at being able to care for Alex like this. He plucks the bottle of ultra-rich skin repair moisturizer specifically formulated for prosthetic users out of the air.

“Yeah, there were several different kinds out there but this one was recommended a lot and it’s unscented so I wouldn’t have to worry about you not liking the way it smells.”

He is pleased to see Alex’s fond expression as he looks up at him and he knows he made the right call.

Slowly, Alex reaches out, grabbing Michael’s left hand, then glances up at him with an eyebrow raised in question. Michael blows out a breath and nods wordlessly. If he is going to expect Alex to trust him with his leg, he is going to have to trust Alex with this.

So, so carefully, Alex unties the bandana wrapped around Michael’s formerly mangled hand, then slides it off, letting it drop to the floor. He looks up again to gauge Michael’s feelings, and seeing Michael’s face screwed up in what looks like pain, he starts to pull back. Michael’s eyes fly open and he gasps out, “don’t stop” before closing his eyes again and letting his head hang heavy between his shoulders.

Alex wraps both his hands around Michael’s healed one and slowly goes through the massage he always used to do. Michael’s hand would cramp up after a long drive to see Alex wherever he was currently stationed and Alex, ever watchful, had noticed that first time and asked about it. Which lead to a fight where Michael stormed away and drove for five miles, fuming with anger and shame and wrapped up in painful memories before he saw a billboard in loving memory of a family member, killed overseas. He had pulled off the road and yelled his frustration into the steering wheel before turning around and driving back to Alex, wrapping him up in a desperate, tearful hug before taking him to bed and apologizing with his body in the only way he really knew how. Afterword, Alex saw him flexing his hand again and, wordlessly this time, took it into his own, gently feeling his way and watching Michael’s body language for cues on what felt good and what hurt, slowly working the kinks out until they both relaxed and fell asleep. It became one of their unspoken traditions over the years, a peace offering after harsh words and an expression of love and care when they couldn’t express it verbally- both of them giving and accepting comfort from each other through the ritual, letting their bodies speak for them.

Now, Michael allows the familiarity relax him and shudders at the feeling of pure pleasure that now accompanies the massage instead of the pleasure/pain he’s used to. It’s overwhelming at first, but maybe everything was going to feel overwhelming after the night he’s had. But this…Michael feels like they are on the precipice of something tonight. What started in fear, hurt, and then anger, has seemed to forge them closer together. Like a gap neither of them were fully aware of has been bridged and they can see a way across to each other.

Finally, Michael feels Alex’s movements slow, ending with a soft squeeze and he takes a deep breath, forcing his eyes open to meet Alex’s soft gaze with his own.

“Thank you, but I thought this was supposed to be about _me_ giving _you_ a massage,” he says with a smile. Alex just brings Michael’s hand up to his mouth and brushes his lips across the knuckles before letting go and laying back onto the bed at a slight angle, tugging one of Michael’s pillows under his head.

Once Alex is situated, Michael starts in on the massage techniques he learned, though without having had anyone to practice on he isn’t sure if he’s doing it quite right and makes sure to listen to Alex’s quiet comments as well as body language, suddenly terrified he is going to mess up. He releases that worry fairly quickly as Alex’s words slowly trail off, eyes slipping shut and body slowly relaxing under Michael’s hands and Michael allows himself to relax too, finding the work of soothing Alex’s body to be almost meditative and nearly as good as music for calming the storm in his mind, especially after everything they have gone through today, or yesterday, probably at this point. Time stopped having meaning for him the moment he saw Alex stumbling out of that house, hand pressed to bloody cotton. 

Alex isn’t sure when exactly he closed his eyes but he is feeling more relaxed than he has in ages.

“You still with me, Private?” He hears Michael ask quietly.

“Mmmmmhmm,” is about the most coherent thing he can mumble out at the moment and he both hears Michael laugh, and feels the vibrations and jostle between his thighs where Michael is kneeling. He manages to crack his eyes open when he feels Michael start to shift away from him, his hands coming up to grip the other man’s biceps both stopping Michael from moving away, and allowing him to leverage himself back up to sitting. Michael lets out a snort of laughter, shaking his head slowly, eyes never leaving Alex’s as he continues to reach over and pick up the t-shirt and pants he had laid out earlier before depositing them on Alex’s lap. Alex rolls his eyes, mostly at himself for being so needy, and slides his hands down Michael’s arms fully intending to grab the clothes, but loathe to stop touching. He forgets sometimes what it feels like to be touched gently by other people, how the weight of a person sits on the skin. How Michael’s touch always seems to sink a little deeper, grounding him even more firmly in the moment.

Michael seems to notice his reticence and while Alex’s hands are still at the tops of his forearms Michael picks up the shirt, shaking it out. He looks up at Alex with a questioning quirk of his brow and tilt of his head, reminding Alex of a golden retriever. It’s ridiculously adorable and Alex nods with a small smile. Michael leans back on his heels so he has enough room to slide Alex’s arms through the shirt, moving Alex’s hands from his forearms one at a time, then placing them back, which keeps them in physical contact and has the added bonus of keeping Alex from lifting his arms up too high and possibly stretching his wound. Michael then bunches the shirt up, pulling it down over Alex’s head. Alex lowers his arms to his lap and has to suppress a shudder as Michael’s fingertips graze his skin while lowering the shirt all the way down. Next, Michael grabs the pants, light grey, giving Alex a flash memory of Maria and Liz talking about that magazine article that said grey sweatpants make a man’s dick look more prominent when going commando and he feels himself flush slightly, though he also feels a little zing of curiosity about Michael’s thoughts on the subject and how he can test them. Michael bunches up the left leg, and slides the pants up to Alex’s knee, tucking the waistband under Alex’s thigh so the pants don’t fall back down while he bunches up the right leg and slides it over Alex’s stump. Michael looks up at him then, locking eyes, checking in that Alex is still okay with this level of intimacy. Alex looks at him fondly and gives a small nod. He reaches out to brace his hands on Michael’s shoulders again for leverage, lifting up as Michael tugs the pants the rest of the way up and around his waist, then leans back to tie up the loose right leg.

As soon as Michael finishes his fussing, Alex leans forward and slides his hands down from where they are braced on the tops of Michael’s shoulders to run along his spine, rucking the white t-shirt shirt up until he can gather it under Michael’s armpits and pull it off. Michael shakes his head when he’s finally free, curls flopping about adorably, and he gives Alex a small, soft smile as he gets to his feet. He’s about to turn and step back so he can remove his jeans when Alex stops him by hooking his fingers in the beltloops.

“Let me?” He asks, in a parody of Michael’s earlier question and is rewarded with another smile. Carefully, he undoes the belt and unbuttons Michael’s jeans, pulling down the zipper and slowly sliding them off his hips and letting them fall to the floor as Michael takes the opportunity to squeeze Alex’s shoulders while using them for balance.

Michael will later blame the fact that Alex is absentmindedly rubbing circles over his hipbones with his thumbs and looking up through his lashes at him for the fact that he doesn’t remember his boots are still on when he goes to step out of his pants.

His right leg catches and Michael has one second to snap his eyes to Alex’s in alarm before he is overbalancing and crashing into him. The force knocks them sideways and back onto the bed with Michael sprawled on top, and Alex’s face buried somewhere around his navel. As Michael is struggling to get back up without kneeing Alex anywhere important, he notices Alex is shaking under him. At that, he throws himself sideways, flopping onto the bed next to Alex rather than clambering backwards off of him. He immediately scrambles to sit up already reaching out to check if Alex is alright, only to finally register that Alex is _laughing,_ nearly soundlessly, until he takes in a great, gasping breath and positively howls.

“I’m glad _you_ think this is funny,” Michael comments with a slightly disgruntled frown. Alex is still laughing too hard to say anything and Michael finds himself starting to giggle now too. It’s been years since he’s seen Alex laugh like this and he has nearly forgotten how contagious it is.

“Your _face_!” Alex manages to gasp out before dissolving back into peals of laughter.

Michael is now laughing along with Alex while trying to kick his boots off but he can’t seem to find enough purchase with either foot to dislodge the shoes and trying just makes Alex laugh harder until Michael gives up and they are both laying back on the bed and hopelessly giggling. Michael feels the slightly hysterical edge to their laughter and with one look at Alex he knows he feels it too, but he can’t bring himself to stop. It goes on for a few more minutes as they try to avoid looking at each other, starting up the laughter again when that fails and their eyes meet until finally,

“Ouch, stop!” Alex cries looking up at him, eyes crinkling with mirth as he wraps his arms around his ribs trying to contain the laugher. “Don’t make me laugh anymore,” he gets out between breaths. “My chest!”

That declaration is enough to sober Michael up, and the laugher fades from both of them until they are just staring at each other from across the length of the small bed, wiping their eyes. Suddenly, Michael can’t bear to be even that short distance away from Alex. He reaches out, sitting up and scooting towards the middle of the bed, pulling Alex closer to meet him there. Very, very carefully, he rests his hand over the bandage on Alex’s chest, careful to keep his palm cupped slightly so no pressure is on the actual wound.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he murmurs, holding Alex’s gaze as the last bits of hysteria drain from them. Slowly, Alex reaches up and wraps his right hand over Michael’s left wrist, holding his hand in place, while their foreheads drop until they gently knock together. They spend a few more minutes just breathing each other in, before Alex takes a deep, shuddering breath and pulls away, just far enough so he can see Michael clearly.

“I’m glad you’re okay too,” he says seriously before his eyes light up with mischievous glint. “Let’s see if we can get you out of those pants _without_ either of us ending up in the hospital,” he says, with a wink. Michael rolls his eyes, and reaches down to finally remove his boots, shoving his pants off while he’s at it. When he sits up, he is met with the pair of shorts he got out earlier, dangling in front of his face. He murmurs a soft “thank you” to Alex as he grabs them and slips them on.

Now that they have taken care of everything to get ready for bed, Michael doesn’t know what to do, folding his hands into his lap to keep from fidgeting. Are they going to kiss now? Does he even _want_ to kiss now? Normally the answer to that would always be “yes” where Alex is involved especially after all their flirting tonight, but something Alex said during the fight with Maria had stuck with him. About mistaking needing comforting touch with needing sexual touch. He wants to be _touched_ , that he is certain of, but does he only get to have that if he and the person he is with are fucking? Can he be allowed to have the comfort of touch, of touch with _Alex,_ without the expectation of something more?

“What are we doing here, Alex?” He asks before he can stop himself. His gaze is focused in his lap and he sees Alex’s hand reach forward wrapping around his own, just quietly offering support until Michael feels steady enough to look up and meet his eyes.

“What do you want us to be doing?” Alex responds quietly. Michael feels his frustration building until he catches the look on Alex’s face. It isn’t flirty, or condescending, or upset, it’s _curious_. Maybe, just maybe, he is genuinely asking what Michael wants.

“I don’t want you to leave.” He responds immediately. At that, Alex huffs a laugh.

“I think we are both pretty adamant about that point,” he said with a smile.

“I’m-I’m not sure what else you want then, Alex.”

“Well, what do _you_ want?”

Michael clenches his jaw. How do you say “I need the connection and peace I feel when you are fucking me into oblivion, but without the actual fucking part” in a way that makes sense to someone else? How do you put into _words_ the exact feeling of safety you are looking for when you have only ever been able to find it in _physical action_?

So Michael just shrugs, looking back at their intertwined hands.

“Michael? What do you need from me if I stay?”

Michael has to stop before he throws his hands up into the air in frustration. “I don’t _know_ , Alex!”

Alex startles back slightly at his outburst and Michael is immediately curls in on himself, pulling his hands from Alex’s and tugging on his hair, trying to force his brain to let him put into words what it’s clamoring for.

“Okay,” Alex takes one of his patented deep breaths and slowly lets it out, reaching out to disentangle Michael’s hands from his curls and squeeze them in his own.

“Okay, let me try this a different way. I-I know I’m not good at this, at-at telling you what I want. What I need. But I’m also worried you’ll just do whatever I say I want without telling me what _you_ want, or need. And if-if we want _this_ to work, we are going to have to figure that out.” Alex ducks his head, forcing Michael to meet his eyes.

“So, I’ll go first, and tell you what I want, and then you can tell me what you want and we will find a way to make it work. Okay?”

Michael lets out a sigh of relief and nods. At this point, overcome with decision fatigue, having Alex take charge is what he needs. Alex squeezes his hand again and straightens up clearing his throat.

“Michael,” he states formally, “I want to stay here tonight. Is that okay with you?”

Michael rolls his eyes, feeling a little silly, but he nods his head in agreement. “I also want you to stay here tonight.”

“Good!” Alex responds with a smile. “Can we lay down? I’m exhausted and cold and you’re always so warm.” Alex shimmies himself a little closer as if to cuddle up with Michael for warmth and Michael feels his heart beginning to hammer, suddenly afraid Alex _is_ just looking for sex. But if he is, how can Michael say no, and risk never getting to have him again? But how can he say yes when Alex just asked him to be honest? But how can he say no if Alex just wants to rest? His feelings must show in his face, because Alex leans away slightly, but that only makes it worse, and Michael reaches for him, a mumbled “don’t” on his lips. Alex grasps Michael’s hand and slowly brushes his thumbs over the knuckles.

“Hey, we both decided I was going to stay. Your answers now aren’t going to change that unless you ask me to leave.” Alex continues to rub soothingly over Michael’s hand and he feels his heart rate come back down while his cheeks heat slightly in embarrassment at his neediness. With a final deep breath, he looks up and sees Alex watching him with concern and nothing else, so he shoves the embarrassment away and tries to focus on communicating what he’s feeling. Alex is right, they _have_ to find a way to make this work.

He lets the breath out on a sigh and mumbles “I don’t want to have sex.” He pauses, holding his breath again and waiting for, he doesn’t know what. A burst of anger? Alex leaving again? But it doesn’t come. Alex just squeezes his hand as if asking him to continue and he breathes in again then lets it out, slowly like he had seen Alex do before.

“I want to touch you, _hold_ you, and I want you to touch and hold me, but not-not like _that_. I know we have been flirting and stuff and I didn’t mean to lead you on but I-I don’t want to have sex. Right now. Tonight.” He isn’t aware that he had dropped his gaze back into his lap until Alex is tilting his chin gently up so he can look Michael full in the face. His eyes are slightly glassy and he looks _so_ _proud_ that Michael feels his own eyes start to fill and he blinks hastily.

Alex moves his hand from Michael’s chin to cup his face, thumb brushing his cheek as he goes to speak. He is surprised to find he has to gently clear his throat before he can get the words out.

“ _Thank you_ , Michael, for telling me. For being honest. I don’t want to have sex tonight either. Or in the morning. In fact, I think that is something we should probably table until we are ready to sit down and talk, _really_ talk. But I would really like to hold you while we sleep. Does that work for you?”

He watches as Michael nods clearing his own throat. “I guess we can lay down now. I’m sorry for, for-“

“Hey, no. No apologies Michael,” Alex squeezed his hand again. “Not for being honest with me about what you are comfortable with. I do want to talk more about that, but it doesn’t have to be right now if you don’t want. We can just sleep, and you can tell me about it later.”

Michael nods and starts to tuck himself into the corner by the wall and Alex feels _his_ breath start to come short this time. He reaches out, wrapping long fingers just below Michael’s knee to stop him before he gets settled. Michael freezes, and Alex tries to relax his face into some semblance of a smile though he isn’t sure he succeeds with anything more than a slight grimace. 

“My turn for confession I guess,” he says with a shrug. “I will feel safest if I can have my back to the wall, that way I can see the whole space and I know nothing is sneaking up behind me.” He looks down and pulls his hand back from Michael’s knee, twisting his fingers together in his lap. “I’ve always loved your airstream because of that. I-I can see pretty much everything from right here and I know I don’t have to double check because there is no way anyone could get in without me noticing. I-” Alex pauses and flushes, a look of deep shame crossing his face that Michael can’t remember seeing on him before.

He reaches out and squeezes Alex’s shoulder.

“I want to hear about this, if you want to tell me. But like you said it doesn’t have to be right now.”

The relief that is suddenly radiating from Alex as he nods in agreement has Michael almost preening with the knowledge that for once he’s said the right thing. It’s like taking that first step to admit they have communication problems and both want to fix that is all it took for everything to click into place. Or they are both so tired and emotionally wrung out that they can’t be bothered to hide from each other anymore. Michael is sure it won’t last and they will have to work harder at this in the future when they both have their guards up again but right now, the floodgates are open and he is determined to make the most of it. He feels flayed open and raw and he’s sure Alex is feeling the same but seeing first hand that they could have lost each other seems to have reminded both of them that there are worse things than feeling embarrassed.

Michael scoots over towards the edge of the bed, then reaches out to help guide Alex back. They sit like that for a moment, side by side, backs against the wall, just breathing. Michael finally turns to Alex, and asks “Are you ready to sleep now, or-“ at exactly the same time as Alex suddenly sits up straighter, face scrunched in irritation.

“Shit, I forgot! can you hand me my pants please? And some water?” Alex asks. “I meant to do this before we got settled in but you started that massage and turned my brain to mush,” he finishes, smiling at Michael with a softly fond look.

Michael smiles back and reaches down to grab the pants, using his powers pull them closer and then to float the bottle of water over from the counter. Alex reaches into the pocket of his pants and pulls out a small, round, black object. When he pops the lid open, Michael realizes it’s a small pill case.

“Smart,” he complements.

Alex swallows his meds then smiles. “Okay, NOW I’m ready.”

Michael offers a smirk and with his powers, turns out the lights.

“How do you want me?” he asks into the sudden darkness.

Alex hardly has to think before he is sliding down the bed to settle on his back pulling Michael down with him. They spend a few moments adjusting themselves and each other, quiet murmurs of “is this okay?” and “can I?” followed by hands sliding under clothes, and across skin, and legs gently nudging thighs apart to make room until they finally find their perfect level of comfort.

Alex is on his back with Michael higher up on his chest than normal in deference to the wound on Alex’s left side. His face is smushed into Alex’s neck and his body is plastered down Alex’s left side, one heavy thigh nestled between Alex’s, and his left hand currently settled on Alex’s hip under the borrowed t-shirt. Alex has his right hand buried in Michael’s hair, his left shoulder under Michael’s neck and arm settled across his back, fingertips just reaching to find purchase around Michael’s lower ribcage holding him securely to himself.

Suddenly, laying pressed together with the grounding force of fully-body contact and the darkness settling around them like a blanket, the words come easier.

“Thank you for letting me have this side of the bed. I know it’s made getting situated a little complicated what with the stab wound and all.” Michael lets out a small snort of laughter which Alex feels against his neck and he tightens his hold a little, wanting Michael as close as possible.

“It’s just,” He pauses trying to sort out what he wants to say. “I knew tonight would be bad for my,” he pauses to swallow, and Michael feels it against his mouth. “For my PTSD,” Alex finishes and lets out the breath he’s been holding.

“That guy getting the jump on me? Getting stabbed? All of that was going to bring up my hyper-vigilance. That’s part of the reason I told Ma-,” He cuts himself off as if he can’t say the name, then shakes his head and rephrases, “Part of the reason I didn’t want to leave. If I’d gone home, I would have been up for hours checking and re-checking my house. Every room, top to bottom, all the locks on the doors and windows, resetting the security system, before starting over again and I-“ he sighs deeply. “I didn’t know if I could be on my leg for long enough to do all that. Which means I probably would have spent the rest of the night awake and sitting in a corner holding my service weapon instead. I was-I was willing to do _whatever_ I needed to do if it meant I didn’t have to leave, and if it meant I could be near you. And that scares me. That I would compromise who I _am_ , and all the progress I have made accepting that.” Michael squeezes the hand he has wrapped around Alex’s hip in acknowledgment and as a sign to continue.

Alex takes a deep breath and lets the words he’d held back earlier continue to spill from his lips. “I saw her kissing you and I knew I couldn’t see that again. Hearing about it was bad enough but…god I felt like I was _dying_ seeing her touch you like that.” He takes in a shaky breath and pulls Michael closer to himself when he feels him tense underneath his hands.

“I’m sorry, I just-I wanted to explain. You didn’t do anything wrong. You had told me you liked her, and I knew you were moving on with each other, I just-I compartmentalized that feeling and refused to think about what it meant, practically. Then, when I realized how _actually_ seeing you two together made me feel-“ Alex pauses and swallows again, hard. “I knew it would mean avoiding you in the future and when I got the option to have one last night with you…” He holds his breath for a moment before blowing it slowly out. “Can you blame me? For wanting just one last taste? One last bit of you before I had to give you up forever?”

Michael feels himself stop breathing for a moment, the sheer pain in Alex’s voice, coupled with the thought of losing this, losing _them_ forever robbing him of speech.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to dump all that on you, it’s just…easier like this, in the dark and holding you, to say what I’m feeling.” Alex has been stroking Michael’s hair gently while talking and Michael lets the feeling ground him.

“That feels nice,” he whispers, squeezing his hand on Alex’s hip, and he finds Alex is right, it’s easier to let the secrets out like this when they can’t see each other’s faces. The madness of the day has Michael feeling a little punch-drunk, but he does feel safe wrapped up together. So, he matches Alex’s truth with one of his own.

“Earlier, I was afraid for a minute you still just wanted sex and you would leave if I said no. Because you’re right, I do just do whatever you want, but that’s because I feel like I never know where we stand. We’ll be kissing one night and the next day I pick up where we left off, but suddenly you’re hostile and cold. I _hate_ that. And tonight, I felt, I don’t know, loose? Like I was a flag twisting around in the wind and I would tear free and fly away if you stopped touching me. So if you had pushed like Mari-” Michael also pauses, not wanting to bring up what happened that evening, but needing to get the words out.

“If you had pushed, I probably would have given you what you wanted. But I’m tired Alex,” Michael breathes the last words into Alex’s neck, and Alex tightens his grip. “I’m so tired of never being enough, of settling for whatever scraps people decide to give me. Can we-do you really think we can make this work?” Michael ends with a whisper and he’s pressed so close to Alex he can feel the stutter of Alex’s heart and how his breath catches.

Alex continues stroking Michael’s hair but Michael isn’t distracted by it like intended and still feels the hitch in Alex’s chest as he tries to compose himself before he speaks.

“I’m so…god, I’m so sorry Michael. I’d say I don’t know why it’s like this, but I’m pretty sure we both know enough about ourselves to work out the why.” His voice drops to a whisper and he pulls Michael impossibly closer, squeezing him at every point of contact possible. “I want to make this work. More than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life. More than I wanted to get out of this fucking town, more than I wanted to erase what my dad engrained in me, and much more than I wanted to live all the times I almost didn’t when I was overseas.” At that, Michael nuzzles his face closer into Alex’s neck, squeezing him back just as hard so they are clinging to each other like life rafts, adrift in a sea of dark memories.

“It’s going to be hard, I think. Harder than it is right now, but Michael? I want this. I want you, and I want _us_. And I can’t promise I won’t panic and start to run because I’m overwhelmed and trying to keep you safe, and I know you can’t promise not to try and push me away, but I _need_ you to hear me now.” Alex pulls his head back enough to find Michael’s eyes, glinting faintly in the dark of the Airstream, and he slides his hand out of Michael’s hair to cup his cheek.

“I love you. I have loved you since I was 17 and you used science to explain how music made you feel calm. And no amount of time, or distance, or _anything_ , has been able to change that. So yes, I think we can make this work, but we have to work on actually talking.” At a nod from Michael in agreement, Alex braces himself and continues. “I was hurt that when I was finally ready and able to be here and give this a real shot, that you were ready to move on. And I thought- I thought that I didn’t have the right to be angry, and hurt and sad, because this was my fault. I walked away, I let my dad threaten me, threaten _you_ one too many times-”

“No, Alex, that’s not-“

“Please, Michael. Let me get this out. I need-I need to apologize. I _want_ to apologize. Because I love you, and you deserve an apology.”

Michael blinks up at him, then swallows hard and nods for Alex to continue.

“Thank you,” Alex replies, smiling, though a little strained and wobbly. He takes another deep breath then turns to look back up at the ceiling. “The truth is, emotions aren’t logical and whether I had the right or not, I _was_ hurt. And I was sad, and I was angry. Angry at you, at Maria, at my dad, the Air Force, _myself_ , and instead of dealing with any of that, I locked it away and tried to throw myself into helping Maria so I could convince myself I was at least making sure you were happy even if it wasn’t with me. But that was not fair to you, or Maria, and especially to me. I-I have the right to feel what I feel, and I should have talked to you, been _honest_ with you, and I certainly should have talked with Maria a long time ago, and stayed out of your relationship entirely.” 

Alex huffs a small, self-deprecating laugh, and shakes his head before smiling a little sadly down at Michael. “There is a difference between being mature about a break-up- if that’s even what you can call it with us- and being a masochist. I thought that I was helping Maria learn how to make you happy, because Michael, more than _anything_ I want you to be happy, but all I was doing was interfering. And I should have told you I was still in love with you and wanted to make this work. But I was scared that you wouldn’t want me anymore or that I was too damaged, or too tied up in all the awful shit my family has done and couldn’t give you want you needed. I was trying to protect myself, but I just ended up hurting both of us, and for that, I am truly, deeply sorry.”

Alex feels Michael inhale like he is preparing to speak, but instead he stops himself. Alex tenses and prepares to move, but Michael holds him firmly, stroking whatever skin is under his fingers as comfort and Alex settles, allowing Michael the time to gather his thoughts.

“I love you too, you know,” Michael finally whispers into Alex’s neck. “I tried to stop, to-to push you away so you wouldn’t care, wouldn’t be so disappointed in me wasting my life.” Michael feels the way Alex squeezes him close at those words, but he presses on, wanting his chance to explain. “I just…I didn’t have it in me anymore after-” he pauses and blows out a breath, “after everything, to let you down too, like I let down Max and my-my mom.” He stumbles over the still foreign-feeling word. Alex makes a wounded sound and Michael just shakes his head where it’s pressed against Alex’s neck and continues. “My head was _so loud_ all the time and I couldn’t make it stop. Max died immediately the first time I touched a guitar in 10 years, and being around you _hurt,_ so I drank, and picked fights to mute the noise.”

Alex can feel the tears gathering in the corners of his eyes but he doesn’t dare interrupt or shy away from Michael baring his soul, no matter how hard it is to hear. The small bed has taken on the air of a confessional, both of them spilling their words into the dark, hoping the other will absolve them of their sins. So, Alex listens and holds Michael tightly, ready to whisper absolution into those beloved curls.

“I thought I could just go back to being the drunken, angry mess I was all those years when you weren’t around, but you _were_ around and that somehow made a difference.” Michael presses his face into Alex’s neck, breathing the next words against his skin. “You refused to let me push you away. You never left, no matter how much I tried to piss you off.”

“You were grieving, and it was because of _my_ family, _my_ legacy, _my_ failure to do more research into that facility before we went in. You don’t need to explain it to me, Michael. I get why things were easier with her.” Alex wants to let Michael know he understands, but it doesn’t stop the words from cutting his throat like glass on the way out. He is surprised when he feels the half snort, half sob that Michael lets out.

“It wasn’t _easier_. Not really. She-she didn’t make things go _quiet_ , but as long as I could throw myself into doing all the relationship-y things you’re supposed to do, if I spent any energy I had left, after working all day at Sanders’ and on experiments with Kyle and Liz, on being the picture-perfect boyfriend, the noise wasn’t so loud. But,” Michael lets out a shuddering breath. “It wasn’t _real_. Because she didn’t see me. Not really. Not the way that you do, and I think that’s what I was looking for. A place to hide. Someone who already had no expectations for me so I couldn’t disappoint them. Not really. I was just faking it as best I could and she let me and…and it wasn’t working. I knew that long before tonight, but that’s when it really hit me. The whole drive back here I was just thinking about how you-” He has to pause, not wanting to put the horrifying things he’d been thinking out into the world, or into Alex’s head.

Alex gives him a moment, then speaks into the silence. “The way you were clenching the steering wheel, I thought-” Michael can hear Alex’s throat click as he swallows. “I thought you were mad. At me. For putting you and Maria in danger.” Michael tries to sit up and get a look at Alex’s face, but Alex’s hands are firm in his hair. Instead, Michael tilts his head down just enough to brush a chaste kiss near the bandage on Alex’s chest while moving his left hand up from Alex’s hip, running along his side before slotting his fingers into the spaces between Alex’s ribs, his thumb brushing soothing strokes across his chest.

“I was. Mad.” Now it’s Alex’s turn to try and move but Michael squeezes the hand on his ribs and continues. “But not at you, although we _are_ going to have to have a talk about going to places with no cell reception without a proper alien-with-telepathy backup.” Alex takes the moment of levity as the olive branch it’s intended to be and they both just breathe for a moment.

“I realized Maria was sitting between us and I-I didn't want her there.” Michael finally says quietly into the dark. “I just wanted to hold you and know that you were okay, but you were on the other side of the truck, and her hands were on my arm and leg and I couldn’t move. I knew she was scared, but in that moment I-I didn’t care. You were hurt, _bleeding_ , and I just wanted to take care of you.” Alex is shocked to feel a tiny spot of dampness against his neck as Michael’s breath hitches. “I’m terrible. For thinking that,” Michael whispers.

He sniffs, and Alex pulls him closer. “Emotions aren’t logical, Michael. The fact that you are concerned about it now means you aren’t terrible.” Michael quiets, allowing Alex’s hand stroking his hair to relax him.

Alex settles into the feeling, preparing himself to gift Michael with a shame of his own, both of them seeming to have decided the wee hours of the morning after a harrowing night was the perfect time to spill their truths, maybe hopeful that with that release, the day would bring them a clean slate to start with.

“I never told you why I stopped meeting you here, at your home, but I should have.” Alex says. “It-it was _never_ about you, and I don’t know why I assumed you would automatically know that-“ Michael cuts his self-flagellation off with gentle squeeze and Alex takes a deep breath before letting it out slowly.

“You remember my second Christmas coming home?” Michael nods slightly and Alex continues. “My dad got an approval for me to work on a project with him on the base here but set it to start the first afternoon after I got my leave so I’d have to head out at four in the morning to make it in time to check in.”

Michael snorts at that. He remembers the story very well. Instead of doing what his dad expected, Alex left his base the second his leave time started, sleep be damned. He bought a bottle of caffeine pills and made the eight-hour drive from Lackland in just under seven, arriving at two in the morning to Michael’s recently purchased airstream. Michael had groggily opened the door and Alex had pushed him back inside immediately, kissing him stupid for hours before finally passing out around six am. They hadn’t even had sex that night, they had just reveled in being inside, in a real bed together, able to just talk and kiss and touch without fear. It was one of the best nights of Michael’s life.

“I’m sorry I disappeared without a goodbye at the end of that leave,” Alex whispers into the dark. He has to swallow twice before he can continue. “I thought I was careful. I thought I had _been_ careful the times I had visited.” He pauses to breathe a moment. “I told everyone I was leaving town that night, even though it was late. I said I was already awake and preferred to get home and then get some rest before I had to check-in back in Lackland. I had planned to spend that last night with you, maybe even have a really early breakfast before I left. I was on my way over when I got a text from my dad.” Michael feels the tension radiating from Alex as he tries to force out the words. The answer to every unasked “why” that neither of them were willing to confront before.

“It-it was a picture of my car, parked outside the airstream that first morning I arrived and a text that said ‘get home safely’.” Michael feels his heart stutter at the words, a rush of fear for the children they had both been rushing through his veins.

“I-I didn’t think, I just drove, hoping the whole time that if I put enough distance between us, that you would be safe.” His voice breaks slightly on that last word and Michael can feel how tightly Alex is holding himself, as if by keeping physically still, it will prevent his heart from shaking apart. “I wasn’t sure if he was tracking our phones so, I didn’t even want to risk calling you.” Alex lets out a wet-sounding laugh. “It’s actually what convinced me to go into cyber security.”

“That’s why you started asking me to meet you in Texas after your first tour, and at a motel whenever you were in Roswell.” Michael says it quietly, without inflection. A statement of fact rather that a probing question, but Alex answers him anyways.

“Yeah…I would park at The Pony, make sure people saw me there before I walked back to my motel. It-it was _stupid_ and so, _so_ selfish, but…” he pauses to take a deep breath. “But by the next time I made it back here, after that tour, I could feel myself changing. Becoming this person I didn’t want to be. And you always grounded me. You reminded me I could still be gentle and soft. That I could use my hands to build something beautiful, not just to destroy. And-and you looked at me like I was _worth_ something and _god_ Michael, I thought it would kill me if I didn’t see you after everything I went through overseas. And-and I _hated_ myself for putting you into danger, then, and each visit after. But you would still come to me. Every time. And you would touch me so reverently and, and you would be on your knees and begging and I-“ Alex’s voice has been rising as he tries to get the words out in a rush and he has to pause to catch his breath, taking a moment to try and calm the pulse Michael can feel racing everywhere their skin touches. “I could convince myself that you needed me too. That maybe it was as important to you as it was to me. I would forget for a few hours that it was dangerous, and a future was impossible and I would be able to just _exist_ in the same place as you.” Alex continues, slower, and quieter now. “I never slept. Not once. I just stared at you the whole time. And I always left before you woke up because I knew, I _knew_ that if you asked me to stay, I would be too weak to say no, and then people _would_ know, and my dad would actually have the backing he needed to make good on his threats. Besides, I already hated myself for putting you in danger for my own selfish reasons. It seemed only appropriate for you to hate me too.”

The weight of Alex’s confession hangs heavy in the air until Michael speaks on a whisper.

“I didn’t hate you. I could never hate you, no matter how hard I tried. Or,” it was his turn to huff out a slightly damp sounding laugh. “however much you might have thought I did after all the awful things I would say.” Alex shakes his head, but Michael just shushes him. “It’s my turn to apologize, because you also deserve it. I was…I was awful to you. I would think I had finally managed to close myself off enough, but then you would show up and every single defense I made would crumble and-and I would lash out. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry for always striking where I thought it would hurt most. I think I was desperate to make you break that cold façade you would put up, to make you feel _anything_ for me, even if it was anger, because then at least I knew you were thinking about me. You were right when you said we never did that much talking, and-and I want that to change. I want _this_ , holding you and feeling safe, all the time. Even if it means being uncomfortable.”

“I want that too, Michael. And for the record, I’m not uncomfortable, not right now. Right now I feel…free.” Alex takes in a big breath and Michael breathes with him. They allow the silence to fill the room, both feeling a little like tender grass shoots after a spring storm-battered by the deluge, but washed clean, nourished, and with a fresh start on the horizon.

Alex closes his eyes, breathing in the smell of rain from Michael to sooth him towards sleep, matching his breaths to the rise and fall of the chest pressed against his own until,

“Black.” Alex hears, mumbled quietly into his neck.

“Black?” he murmurs back sleepily.

“Mmhmm. Black. It’s my favorite color. You said you didn’t know.”

“Ahhh,” Alex replies. He doesn’t hear anything else for a minute, and feels himself beginning to drift off again when he feels Michael’s nose nuzzling into his neck followed by,

“It reminds me of space. All those years looking up and thinking about where I come from. Of looking for my home.” Michael huffs quietly. “And it reminds me of you, in all your teen emo glory.” Alex snorts at that and is about to reply when Michael continues softly, “And it reminds me of all those times we laid out together and I showed you the constellations, trying to bring my two ideas of home together. Because you’re also home,” he mumbles sleepily. “After you left, I still looked, wondering where you were, and if you were looking too.”

“Always.” Alex breaths. “I was always looking too. Sometimes, I showed my friends in my unit the constellations I remembered, but most times I would just look, and think about you.”

Alex feels the ghost of a kiss against his neck before Michael says, “I’ve loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night,” ending with a small laugh. “Max got me a notebook for Christmas one year with that quote on the cover. He said it was for all my calculations I was always scribbling on scrap paper.” Michael releases a soft sigh. “I could never bring myself to write in it though. It was too nice for chaotic scribbling and ripping out pages. He was right, of course,” and Alex swears he feels Michael rolling his eyes. “I’ve always found the darkness soothing. It reminds me of the quiet I could find in my head when I would play music.” Another soft laugh. “That might also be why after all these years and the amount of county music I’ve feed into my brain, my favorite song is still ‘I Will Follow You Into The Dark’,” He sighs, squeezing Alex slightly and whispers “We played it so many times together it’s engrained in my memory. Even now, after 10 years of not playing at all, I can still do it without thinking.”

Alex is well and truly awake again now, and hums a few bars of the song, hoping it will help Michael drift back to sleep, but Michael has started to get restless and fidgety like he does when he is working his way up to saying something. Alex puts the pieces together and realizes Michael must be going down the list of things Alex had told Maria earlier that he didn’t know about him.

“The belt buckle?” He asks with a smile, genuinely curious despite how tired he is and touched that Michael wants to make sure he knows these things. Even if it is far past late at night and well into being considered early morning.

“It was a gift at the end of the first year I worked out at Foster’s Ranch. It made me look like I fit in with all the other ranch hands.” Alex squeezes Michael closer, turning his head to brush his lips across the curls at Michael’s temple, knowing how much Michael longed to be accepted and seen as part of a group. “Plus,” Michael continues, and Alex doesn’t need to see Michael’s face to know he’s smirking. He can hear it in his voice. “It _really_ draws the eye to my-” He’s cut off by Alex’s snort.

“As if you need help in _that_ department” Alex yawns while giving Michael a little squeeze. “You’ve basically perfected the Cowboy Swagger.” Michael nestles in a little closer and Alex can feel a smile pressing into his throat.

“What about-” Alex clears his throat softly. “What about the last one?” he asks, not sure if he wants to know, but he also doesn’t want Michael to feel like he has to hide or be ashamed that he has a sexual history with other people.

Pressed together as they are, Alex doesn’t see the movement so much as he feels Michael’s shrug against his body.

“I never bothered to pay much attention to the people I’ve picked up. I don’t have like, a string of notches I’ve been counting or anything. None of them mattered beyond having a little fun. Making my brain go quiet when nothing else worked, or making my skin stop feeling like it was crawling, or shrinking against my bones from lack of physical contact.”

At that, Alex presses his palms flat and drags them as firmly and heavily as he can across whatever skin he can reach and Michael practically purrs, his left hand clutching tightly at Alex’s ribs where it’s resting. Alex presses his body into that point of contact and Michael squeezes a little harder until their muscles are all clenched, bodies pressing as tightly as they can against each other.

Alex realizes he’s holding his breath, and lets it all out on a whoosh, feeling Michael do the same. Both of them allow their bodies to relax, melting into each other seamlessly. It takes only a few moments after that, but Alex feels Michael’s breaths deepen and even out, finally able to find sleep just as the paper-covered windows start to pinken with light from the rising sun. Alex closes his eyes, turning his head enough that he can press his mouth against Michael’s head and murmur one last “I love you” into the dark of the airstream, praying it will be enough to hold this peace over into the light of day. Alex feels the garbled “love you too” against his neck and with a final sigh, he finally slips into sleep with hope fluttering in his heart and a smile on his lips.

Epilogue

Several months later, Alex gets up on stage and sings a song he wrote, finally feeling free enough to do this for himself. Michael smiles, thinking back on the night they forged a truce out of anger and fear, and the trust they finally started nurturing. He can’t believe he almost lost this, lost _Alex_ , to a rusty awl wielded by a madman. (Kyle had some _very_ choice words about not calling him and immediately heading to the hospital in the event someone non-alien was stabbed and gave a lecture the entire time he was checking Alex over the next day, ranting about things like “tetanus shots” and “clostridium bacteria”, and “proper wound care”. Michael tuned him out in favor of mooning over Alex’s bare chest while Alex made placating sounds before apologizing and hugging Kyle tightly in thanks.)

Just as painful to face though, even while hearing Alex sing about wiping the slate clean, is the knowledge that he almost lost their decade-long love to his own stupidity. (Alex would say _their_ own stupidity, and Kyle would correct both of them and say _their trauma responses_ like the know-it-all that he is). Michael is learning bit by bit to release the blame he’s heaped on his own shoulders, and is instead focusing on taking responsibility for his actions, owning up to the hurt he’s caused, asking for forgiveness, and learning to accept it as well. Alex is working on his shit too, and tonight is a big step for both of them, setting foot inside an establishment neither of them has been willing to frequent since that night, though their presence is only due to the open mic night and the absence of the owner. Maybe someday common ground will be settled on but for now, Michael watches Alex sing about their love story, tears pricking his eyes. When it’s over he claps louder than anyone before moving forward and meeting Alex halfway from the stage. Alex presses their foreheads together and all the sound around them fades as they breath the moment, and each other in. Alex pulls back with glassy eyes and a smile, brushing a quick but firm kiss to Michael’s lips before linking their hands together and tugging Michael along to sit with him and Greg. Michael looks at the empty seat next to Greg and turns to Isobel, calling her over with a jerk of his head and a smirk. He’s pleased to see the slight flush on Isobel’s cheeks before she straightens her spine and saunters over.

“Michael?” Alex askes under his breath. “Are you meddling wit-“

“Shhhh!” Michael hisses back then plasters a smile on his face as Isobel gracefully collapses into the open chair, managing to nudge it a little closer to Greg in the process and making sure her arm brushes Greg’s when she reaches across the table to grab at Alex’s hand before launching into praises for his song. Greg and Alex both look a little overwhelmed, but Michael just chuckles and takes a swig of his beer before turning back to the stage.

Forrest is heading up to announce the next act and he catches Michael’s eye on the way to the mic giving him a wink and a smile. Forrest and Alex have forged a friendship over the past several months, and Michael knows Forrest helped Alex finish up the song to perfection. Michael salutes him with his beer, giving the man a smile in return, thankful that Alex is surrounding himself with people who support him and his interests. He settles back into his chair, slinging his arm across the back of Alex’s seat, stroking his fingers across Alex’s shoulder just to feel him shiver at the contact and lean closer into Michael’s side. Michael has _plans_ for when they leave and when Alex turns to him, smile bright and carefree, he sees that desire reflected back. But that is later. For now, they are content to sit in public with their family and bask in the love they have created for themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's my first official, completed, published fic in the bag! I had some other stuff I wanted to do first, but then 2x06 happened and all the fallout from that and this monster of a fic wouldn't leave me alone. I could probably poke and prod at it for another month, but I think it's time to release it into the wild. Thank you so much to every single person who encouraged me to write this, squealed about my WIP Wednesday and Six Sentence Sunday sneak peeks, and commented on this fic along the way. I never would have made it without you. Thanks for coming on this journey and I can't wait to hear about all your favorite bits! 
> 
> Come yell at me on [Tumblr](%E2%80%9Clovecolibri.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D) about all things Malex, or any of my other random interests.

**Author's Note:**

> First fic ever whaaaaaat?! Thank you to everyone on Tumblr who encouraged me with this monster, I hope you all enjoy it as much as I do. Title is from the song Heart of Courage by Two Steps From Hell. Fun fact, this fic was almost titled "All Is Hell That Ends Well, also from Two Steps from Hell. Come yell at me on [Tumblr](%E2%80%9Clovecolibri.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D) about all things Malex, or any of my other random interests. If you're interested in a more thorough breakdown of the consent issues inherent in That Scene I made a whole post about it here.


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